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I try to hide my excitement. “What’s the initiation like?”
Camden chokes on nothing but air. “Don’t encourage her, Dimka.”
Dimka’s too cute a nickname for this man. He’s too intense, too old, too hot for it. But it shows that Camden and he are closer than I thought. I don’t think Dimitri would let just anyone call himDimka.
“The girl wants to know.” He winks, before gesturing to a point in front of him.
I follow the direction of his gaze, finding that the couple on the spanking bench are not fucking hard, but I don’t think Dimitri’s indicating them.
“See that hook on the ceiling?”
I didn’t spot it, given the show on display on the other side, but once he says it, I notice the feature on the ceiling, smack in the middle of the room. “Yeah?”
“It’s to hang a swing. You’d get suspended up there, and handled by anyone who wishes to, any way they wish to.”
My jaw falls open, but he’s not done. “Some might simply fuck you. Others might play with wax, or whips, or electric shocks. One way of making sure youreallywant to join in.”
“Whoa.”
Camden’s right. It’s a little too intense for me. I mean, part of me is intrigued by the idea—more than intrigued if I’m honest, given the molten heat pooling between my legs—but it’s still…terrifying.
“It’s not that bad.” Camden rolls his eyes. “No one can permanently mark people during initiations. No blades.”
“Oh well, then, that’s perfectly fine.” I snort.
“I told you you weren’t ready,” Camden reminds me smugly.
I narrow my eyes, annoyed. “Sign me up.”
ChapterSeventy-One
I am being what Camden would undoubtedly call a brat. He told me I couldn't, so I metaphorically stomped my foot and said I would. I fully expect him to roll his eyes and deny me. Maybe punish me for it later, too. But it's not just Camden and me right now.
"Marvelous." Dimitri smiles like a Cheshire cat. "You're going to be so popular."
Camden's jaw tics. "Dimka, she's not ready."
"I was under the impression we let women decide what they can and can't do, yes?" he counters.
He sounds like the perfect feminist, but I wish he'd leave well enough alone. I don't think I'm ready.
I played on Camden's swing—one mounted on a frame, rather than from a ceiling—just last week, and I remember how being tied up like that made me feel. Helpless. It's one thing with Camden, but if anyone can dojust anythingto me?
Something I should have considered before announcing I was in.
Dimitri scrolls through his phone for a few seconds. "There's an available slot tonight. Midnight—just a couple of hours away. That'd be perfect. What do you say, Morgan?"
I bite down my bottom lip.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Camden points out.
I snort. "Is that your new Friday policy?"
He narrows his eyes. "Fine. I'll sign you up."
He gets to his feet.
Shit. Camden always says my mouth will eventually get me into trouble. It's never more apparent than at this moment.
